I'm No Hero
by Elma MacBetsy
Summary: Set in the seasons 3 episode 'Aid Station'. Hawkeye, Klinger and Margaret's trip to the aid station doesn't happen exactly as planned.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm trying out a new story. I hope you like it. I've got several chapters written, but they're all very short - the format of the story only really works as many short chapters, or one long one.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MASH**

**I'm No Hero  
**

"Colonel Blake!" Radar shouted as he ran into the Swamp. "Colonel!" Frank sat up.

"Corporal, haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" Trapper rolled his eyes.

"Lay off Frank. What is it Radar?" Radar was looking franticly around.

"Is Colonel Blake here?" Trapper nodded and pointed at a lump on the spare bunk.

"Henry!" He called. The lump wriggled a bit and Henry sat up, his blanket still covering him up to his nose.

"Radar, there better be a damn good reason for this!" Radar nodded.

"Colonel, we just got a call from the I-company command!" Trapper and Henry both stood up.

"Is it about Hawkeye and the others?" Trapper asked. Radar nodded. Frank stood up.

"And Margaret?" He asked, his voice rising in pitch.

"Yes sirs." The three doctors looked at each other.

"Well, what did they say, Radar?!" Henry almost shouted Radar swallowed.

"They er…They said that they can't get new personnel right now. Hawkeye, Klinger and Major Houlihan are to stay there indefinitely." He paused. "They're not coming back." He finished in a smaller voice. There was complete silence as they all tried to comprehend what Radar had just said.

"They're staying at the front? All of them?" Henry asked quietly, disbelievingly. Radar nodded.

"Yes sir."

"For how long?!" Radar sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"Indefinitely, sir." Henry sank back down onto his bunk.

"Whatever the hell that means." Trapper muttered, turning away from the others. Frank started pacing the tent.

"Well, this is just awful! Can we get a line through to them?" Radar shook his head.

"Not until morning." He sat down on the chair next to him. Trapper turned to the still and poured himself a drink before sitting down on his bed, looking at the floor.

"Radar, do you know if we're getting replace-" Henry's voice cracked slightly. "Replacements for them?" Trapper's head snapped up.

"Hawkeye's stuck up at the front, with artillery left, right and centre, just because he got unlucky and picked the damn short sausage, and you're worried about _replacements_?!" He looked outraged. Henry stood up.

"Look! I'm the commanding officer in this place! I have to look at the bigger picture sometimes! I'm gonna miss them and worry about them too. Hawkeye is my friend too, y'know." Trapper looked away.

"Yeah. I know." He let out a deep breath. "Radar, do you know if we can get a call through?" Radar shook his head.

"Not until morning. Sorry Trapper." Trapper drank the last of his martini and poured himself another one. He looked up. "Hey, Frank. Don't you want to whine about missing Hot Lips even a little bit?" There was no answer. "Frank?". Radar stood up.

"He's not there. Should I go and look for him?" He asked Henry. Henry shook his head.

"Nah. Leave him. He's probably just gone to smell Major Houlihan's clothes or something." The three remaining men settled back onto their bunks, Radar having decided to borrow Hawkeye's.

"Uh, sirs? Do you think they'll be ok?" Trapper and Henry looked at each other across the tent.

"Yeah. Sure. They're tough." Trapper answered, as much to himself as his young friend.

* * *

"That's the last of the stuff. Are you two sirs ready?" Klinger asked, having thrown the last duffle bag into the jeep. Hawkeye turned to look at the place he was about to leave.

"Well… I guess if we really have to leave… Let me in there!" He shouted and ran towards the jeep.

"Captain, wait!" Hawkeye stopped and turned around. One of the medics was hurrying towards him.

"What is it?" He asked. The medic stopped in front of them.

"We just got a call from I-company. You three have been ordered to stay here." Hawkeye's mouth nearly fell open.

"For how long?"

"As long as you're needed. Could be a few more days. Could be permanent." He gave Hawkeye a sympathetic smile. "I sure am sorry, Captain." He turned and went back into the aid station, if 'in' really applied to a building that was missing its roof and half its walls.

Hawkeye kicked a rock that was lying by his foot.

"Damn." He muttered. "Damn!" He shouted, kicking the rock again, harder. Klinger and Margaret walked towards them.

"What's wrong Captain?" Margaret asked him. Hawkeye swallowed.

"Klinger, you better go unpack that jeep. We're not going anywhere." He told them bitterly.

"Damn." Klinger echoed his sentiments. "You mean we're stuck here for another night?" Hawkeye looked at Margaret. Unlike Klinger, she didn't appear to have assumed that he had meant they were only extending their stay for such a short period of time.

"No Klinger. I mean we're not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week." Klinger looked stunned.

"You can't mean that we're…we're… They can't do that to us!"

"Yes, they can, Corporal. If they say we're here, we're here until they have a reason to move us." Margaret told him. Her eyes had hardened, her shoulders had stiffened, and it was almost as if she didn't care at all. But Hawkeye knew better. This was just her way of coping.

"Sir!" The same medic came running out of the building again. "We've got a whole load of new wounded coming in. We need you!" Hawkeye sighed.

"Klinger leave the bags until later. We're gonna need all hands on deck again. Margaret, you know what to do."

"Yes Doctor. Klinger, fetch me that alcohol!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter! I hope you all enjoy. Sorry if it seems a bit repetitive and/or slow; I promise you, this story is going somewhere!**

"Corporal! Can we get a line through yet?" Radar looked up as Frank came through the door.

"Well, I can try sir." He sat down at the desk and wound up the phone.

"Sparky? Yeah, it's me…" A few minutes later he was speaking to one of the medics at the aid station. He handed the phone to Frank.

"Hello? This is Major Burns. Could you bring Major Houlihan to the phone? ... What do you mean she's busy?... Right. Of course. Obviously I knew you mean operating. … But can't someone else assist for a while? ... There _is_ no one else?" Radar tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir," he whispered, "Captain Pierce, Major Houlihan and a couple of medics are the only ones there!" Frank brushed him off.

"Well, look here… You can't talk to me like that! Don't you dare… Hello? Hello?" He put the phone down. "Well I never!" With that, he stormed out of the office.

* * *

"Margaret, you're gonna have to play surgeon again." Margaret nodded as Klinger and one of the medics put a patient down in front of her. Margaret lifted the bandage carefully, appraising the wound quickly.

"Hawkeye, it's a chest case. You're going to have to do it!" Hawkeye sighed.

"Ok Margaret, but you're gonna have to do this one." Margaret moved next to Hawkeye. He ran over to the chest case. "Klinger! Get over here!" Klinger ran over and furiously washed his hands in the basin of alcohol. "Ok, get me a scalpel."

One of the medics appeared holding the radio.

"Major, there's a Major Burns here who wants to speak to you." Margaret rolled his eyes.

"Tell him I'm busy."

"Major Burns, Major Houlihan is busy right now. … Well we've just had a load of wounded in. She's operating. … Major, nearly everyone in this building is wounded. There is no one else to take her place. … Major, I'm wasting time just talking to you. Major Houlihan will speak to you later, I'm sure." He turned off the radio.

"Hawkeye!" Margaret shouted as her patient suddenly started spurting blood into her face.

"I'll be right there. Klinger, put your hand in there and press down that bleeder, like you did before. Someone get more clamps over here!" He ran over to Margaret.

"Pierce, the bleeding won't stop! I don't think I'm cut out for this!" Hawkeye shook his head.

"Margaret, you're going great. I honestly believe that you would make a terrific doctor. Get me a sponge. Ok, now press that sponge down, then clamp it off." Margaret followed his instructions. "See? It's fine. Suture the ends together, and then I'll be right back!" He ran back to Klinger. "You're doing terrific, Klinger. Ok, this one's stable. Just put a new dressing on, and get him outta here!" Hawkeye wiped his forehead on his sleeve, and splashed some alcohol on his hands. He briefly wondered how it was that more of the wounded at the 4077th didn't come in with infections, given the state of the operating…area here. But then Margaret was calling for him, and the shells were falling, and the medics were bringing in more and more bleeding men, and what was left of the building was literally collapsing around him, and he got lost in his work. There wasn't time to wonder. Not anymore.

* * *

"What do you think it's like there?" Trapper asked at dinner the next night. "At the aid station?" Henry shrugged.

"Terrifying as hell, is my guess." Trapper stared out into the compound. He could hear distant shelling. He wondered if he was listening to the same shells that could right now be hitting his friends. He shuddered at the thought.

"I've never been to the front." Trapper said quietly. Henry shook his head.

"Me neither. This is as close as I'm willing to go." The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I wish it was me out there, instead of Hawkeye." Trapper whispered. Henry said nothing. "Except I don't." Trapper gasped, tears forming in his eyes. "My buddy could be dying out there. And all I can think is how _glad_ I am that it's not _me_." Henry gingerly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah." Henry agreed softly. "Yeah, I know."

The two men sat together for a long time that night, neither one saying anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Next chapter! Thanks for your reviews!**

Hawkeye half collapsed against the wall. There was a respite in the wounded, though he imagined only a brief one. Someone had told him that they'd taken whatever hill it had been they'd been fighting for. He found it hard to see it as a success. The fact that the shelling hadn't stopped didn't help any, either. But then they never would stop, he realised. This is what his life was, now. He'd thought the war couldn't get any worse for him, but he'd been wrong. _So_ wrong. He closed his eyes, not to sleep – he was almost too _exhausted _to attempt sleep – but just to get a break from his surroundings. What would happen to his things, back in the Swamp? Where would his mail go? He could hardly imagine a postman coming to a place like this. He almost laughed at the image of his Crabapple Cove mailman showing up on his bicycle – _almost_.

He opened his eyes and looked around, trying to spot Margaret and Klinger. Klinger, he saw, was still awake, working with one of the medics to restore some sort of order to the place. But where was Margaret? He glanced around, and eventually saw her curled up in the corner – definite article necessary: it was the only corner left – shaking. He pulled his aching body up, and crawled over to her.

"Margaret?" He whispered as he got closer to her, gently putting a hand on her back. "Margaret, are you ok?" What did that even mean anymore, he asked himself. What was 'ok' about being here? He crawled round so that he was on the other side of her. Her legs were pulled right up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her head was bent, but she lifted it when he said her name again. His heart broke for her when he saw her tear-streaked face. He put his arms around her and pulled her up so she was sitting leant against him.

"Shh, it's ok Margaret." He felt her shake her head against his chest.

"But it's not, is it?" She pointed out in a wobbly, voicing his exact thoughts from before. He couldn't answer her. She wiped her eyes firmly with her hand and took a deep breath. "This isn't fair to you or Klinger." Hawkeye frowned at her.

"Or you." He reminded her.

"I _chose_ this. You didn't." It was true, Hawkeye had to concede. But that didn't make it any better for her.

"You could hardly send one of the nurses out here, major. How would you even begin to make that sort of choice? Besides, I don't know if we would have had enough sausages." He laughed as genuinely as he could, trying desperately to bring some humour to them. It didn't work.

"I meant I chose _this_," she gestured to her uniform. "I chose to join up as a nurse. I _knew_ that I might have to go to war. I knew there would be shells and blood." Hawkeye pulled her tighter. "I just…I never really thought that I'd be on the frontline, like this." Her lip trembled.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Margaret, but you're right: you _shouldn't_ be here. This is hardly the place for a woman" She shook her head.

"This is hardly the place for _anyone_," she corrected.

* * *

"Is there no word from them yet, Radar?" Henry asked as he walked out of his office.

"No sir, not yet." Henry sighed.

"I would have thought they would have called. I mean, we might never…" Henry stopped, refusing to say those words.

"Klinger said yesterday that the aid station was swamped. I guess they just don't got enough time."

"Yeah," Henry agreed. The door from post-op swung open and Trapper marched in.

"Is there no word from them yet, Radar?"


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm updating with 2 chapters today. The second one just didn't seem to fit as the end of this chapter, but it doesn't fit as the beginning of what was going to be the next one, either, so the lucky thing got it's own chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!  
**

At some point while he was comforting Margaret, Hawkeye had fallen asleep. He was awoken by a particularly loud explosion. The shelling was getting closer.

"It's an optical illusion." He repeated his words from his first day here. Making sure that Margaret was in a relatively stable part of the building, Hawkeye stood and walked 'outside'. One of the medics was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall.

"Captain." He said by way of greeting. Hawkeye gave him a mumbled 'hey' in return as he took a seat next to him.

"Busy day," Hawkeye said. The medic shrugged.

"I've seen worse." Hawkeye nodded absently. Of course. There was always worse.

"What did you say your name was again?" Hawkeye asked, feeling a little guilty for forgetting the name of a man he'd spent days working with.

"Dever." The other man replied. Hawkeye nodded again, remembering.

"Listen, I'm sorry about your surgeon. It must be pretty rough." Dever shrugged.

"He'd only been here three days. We only spoke a couple of times." Hawkeye swallowed. He must have been here for at least that long now – he'd lost track of the time not long after he'd arrived. "You were at a MASH?" Hawkeye nodded. "What was that like?" Hawkeye looked at the other man, trying to figure out the emotion in his eyes. Longing, he realised. Longing for a place that up until a few days ago he'd thought was hell on Earth.

"If you'd asked me that a week ago, I would have had an answer for you." Dever gave him a small smile, barely noticeable, but enough to let him know that he understood. Silence fell upon them. After a while, a few minutes maybe, Hawkeye stood, with the intention of going back inside to Margaret. He'd almost reached the doorway, which, oddly, was still standing even without a wall, when another shell fell. This time, the explosion was the loudest of the lot, and the impact threw Hawkeye to the ground. He lay there, panting. The shelling continued, close by, but not as close as the one that had him on the floor. He stood up carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw he'd avoided all fragments. He turned around to ask if Dever was ok, but the words died on his lips. The shell had been closer than he'd thought, he realised.


	5. Chapter 5

Trapper, Henry and Frank were in the OR. A new batch of wounded had just come in, more than they'd had in a while. Without Hawkeye, the usual banter was non-existent. No one was in the mood to joke. Barring the surgeons' quiet requests for instruments, the room was practically silent.

"Colonel," Frank started, breaking the hush. "Do you know when we're getting a replacement for Pierce yet?" Trapper glared at him over his mask.

"Frank, if you know what's good for you, you'll-"

"Quiet, McIntyre! _No_, Frank, I _did not_ find out when we're getting a new surgeon in the hour since you last asked me." Frank frowned.

"Well excuse me Colonel!" Frank continued to mutter under his breath.

"Frank, just leave it, will ya? We're all very tired and _very_ busy!" Frank stepped away from his patient.

"I'm done here." He turned his attention to Henry. "Well that's just my point! How are three surgeons supposed to cope with so _many_ patients?" Trapper rolled his eyes.

"Frank, most of these guys came from Hawkeye's aid station, or were you too busy committing malpractice to notice? He's just _one_ surgeon, remember?" Not having a response for that, Frank quietly returned to his next patient.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry! This was a much longer wait than I intended. I have most of the story already written, so I've really got no excuse for not updating. Just laziness, I guess.**

**Anyway, I hope you like!  
**

The wall that mere minutes ago Hawkeye had been sitting against was gone. The man he'd just been talking to was crumpled face down a few metres away. Hawkeye ran over to him. The first thing he noticed was that Dever's left leg was missing. He fixed his gaze on the patient, terrified that if his eyes strayed they would find the limb. Hawkeye fell on his knees by the other man's side, narrowly missing the blood that was pooling around him. He placed a hand on Dever's neck. No pulse. He moved his hand to his shoulder, took a deep breath and rolled him over.

He immediately wished he hadn't. His left side had clearly taken the brunt of the explosion. The left side of his chest was completely open, revealing all tattered remains of his organs – meatball surgery had never seemed such an apt description before. But that wasn't the worst of it. His face…God, his face… His cheek had collapsed, his jaw bone shattered, pulling his mouth into a terrible grimace. And his eye was just…_gone_. Hawkeye found himself unable to tear his gaze away as Dever's one remaining brown eye stared up at him accusingly, emptily, _hauntingly_. They didn't get men like this at the 4077th. He stood shakily and backed away, still staring at the dead eye.

"Litter!" He heard himself call. Two medics rushed out, gasping and cursing when they saw the man lying on the ground. They turned to Hawkeye for some sort of explanation. He shook his head, moving his lips soundlessly, then turned and fled back to Margaret. He fell at her side, pulling her to him again as he had earlier. The movement woke her, and she stared at him, surprise, concern, and fear evident in her eyes. She knelt, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Hawkeye, what happened?!" He wrapped his arms even tighter around her waist, and burrowed his face into her shoulder, desperate sobs tearing from him. Margaret stayed still for a few seconds, too shocked to do anything, and then let her arms slide around the shoulders of the man clinging to her, and rocked him, trying her best to soothe him. Klinger appeared standing next to her, staring down at Hawkeye with wide eyes.

"What happened?" He asked, quietly. Margaret could only shrug. Klinger stared a moment longer, then snapped himself out of it. "Major, Captain, we got more wounded. Now!" He hesitated. "Major, can he operate?" Again, Margaret could only shrug.

"He's going to have to." She looked down at Hawkeye. "Hawkeye? Hawkeye, we've got wounded. We have to go back to work." Almost immediately, Hawkeye pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes harshly.

"Right," he muttered, standing up. "Wounded." He began walking towards the triage area. Margaret followed after him wondering what on Earth had just happened. Hawkeye couldn't explain his behaviour much better. He was a doctor! He was almost more familiar with people's insides than their outs! He'd seen people come in without legs before. He'd even removed them! He'd seen kids come in with eyes full of shrapnel, and seen them return to the states, leaving their sight in Korea.

So he had no explanation for why he couldn't get the image of Dever's broken body out of his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**It's been a while again! I'm going to update with 2 chapters, since this one's so short. Thanks for reading!**

It didn't take long for Klinger to discover what had affected the surgeon so badly. He instantly noticed the lack of one of the medics. He asked one of the other ones about it.

"He got shelled. It was almost a direct hit. Captain Pierce was with him." The man lowered his voice. "I've seen some pretty awful things since I got here, corporal, but, uh…with Sergeant Dever…I mean, he was in a _bad _way." Then the conversation was over as both men were called away by Hawkeye and Margaret. It stuck in Klinger's mind though, forcing him to wonder what could happen to a person that was so horrible that even a man who spent his life looking at blood and guts couldn't bear to see it.

Margaret spent the hours in OR trying to see if Hawkeye was any different; that is, when she wasn't busy with wounded. But he didn't seemed to have changed from yesterday. Changed from a week ago, yes, but no more subdued than he'd been since he got here. Maybe nothing had happened after all. Maybe everything had just caught up with him, like it had with her. But no, she thought. Hawkeye Pierce was stronger than that. Things didn't 'catch up with him'. He dealt with things as they happened. And that's what he'd done tonight.

Hours later, when they'd finished operating, and Margaret was sat in what was becoming _their_ corner watching Hawkeye sleep, Klinger approached her and told her what he'd heard about Dever. Her heart went out to the captain. Even if they went home, to the 4077th, right now, he would still have seen more horrors than he ever would have done if he'd never come to the aid station.


	8. Chapter 8

**And here you go...**

Hawkeye frowned as the sunlight began to shine through his eyelids. He was way too tired to wake up right now. But he supposed he didn't have a choice. He forced his eyes open and sat up. Margaret and Klinger were already awake, sitting together a short distance away from him.

"Morning, cap'n," Klinger said, smiling slightly. For a few seconds, instead of Klinger's familiar face, Hawkeye saw a different one. One with a horrifying grimace. One with one piercing eye and one misshaped hole that swallowed half his features. But he managed to shake it off. With his new schedule of almost round the clock surgery, he didn't have time to lose his mind. He'd save that for when he got out of here. _If_ he got out of here.

"Klinger, Margaret," he greeted. He got to his feet and went to join them. A few minutes later, a medic ran over to them, still clutching a radio.

"I-company are sending three new medics. You can go." Margaret and Klinger's faces lit up.

"Back to the 4077th?" Klinger asked. The medic nodded. "Jeez, I never thought that I'd be looking forward to that, but God knows I am!" He started laughing, and Margaret joined him. Hawkeye didn't. Three medics, the man had said. More medics could cover a nurse and corpsman easily. But not a surgeon.

"Hawkeye, aren't you glad?" Margaret asked, frowning in confusion. Hawkeye stared at her calmly.

"I'm not going back," he told her. "Am I?" He asked the medic who'd given them the news. The medic shook his head, looking extremely apologetic. Hawkeye's companions were silent.

"But…we can't just leave you here!" Margaret almost shouted.

"Margaret…" Hawkeye didn't really know what to say. He was so, _so_ glad that Margaret was leaving. He couldn't stand the idea of something might happen to her, and that was more than likely at the aid station. But…for the past few days, they'd grounded each other. He _needed_ her. "Just get outta here, would ya?" The words came out harsher than he intended. Margaret stepped away from him.

"Fine." She turned to the medic. "When do we leave?" He pointed to the front of the aid station.

"Your jeep's right there. You leave now." Margaret nodded, and, gathering the few things they'd brought with them, marched out of the building. Klinger looked sadly at Hawkeye.

"I guess I'll see you." He told him. Hawkeye nodded.

"Yeah." A moment passed. "Klinger, would you tell everyone that I'm fine, and not to worry about me?" He paused. "Actually, Klinger, could you not tell anyone how bad it is here? And make sure Major Houlihan does the same? Tell them at it's a lovely place, and that you're thinking of buying a summer home here." Hawkeye tried to smile. Klinger returned it with a little more success.

"Goodbye, captain." Hawkeye nodded, and watched Klinger leave, before he let himself feel everything. He was _alone_ he realised. His friends had gone – and he wasn't going to let himself hate them for it, even though he was dangerously close to it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Or at least not any worse. He'd already left his closest friends behind at the 4077th. And at least this way he knew they'd all be safe. _Safer_.

He looked around at the people he was left with. He didn't even know any of their names, for God's sake! They were just the medics. And he didn't trust any of them enough to let them cut anyone open, not like he did Margaret. That would certainly make things more difficult. At least he wasn't completely alone though. He could always make friends with the guys that were here. At that moment, two more medics burst through a doorway with a stretcher.

"We got a chest wound here!" One of them called. Hawkeye switched into surgeon mode, sterilising his hands in the alcohol and heading to the patient.

"This is a medic," he said. He glanced at the guy ready to assist him. "One of us?" The man nodded sadly.

"His name is Hawkins. He was out on the field. When we got there, the kid he'd gone for was dead, and Hawkins was like this," he gestured to the man resting on the saw horses. Hawkeye shook his head.

"I don't think Hawkins made the journey." He stepped away from the stretcher. He couldn't get close to these people, just like they weren't getting close to each other. The turnover here was just too high. In less than twenty-four hours, two guys had died, and he was barely coping with that as it was. If it had been a friend…it would have been too much for him to take.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I actually couldn't believe how long it had been since I updated this story. It's actuually slightly worrying - It feels like it was only a few weeks ago, to me. Maybe I'm getting old :P I apologise to anyone still interested in this - there's really no excuse. I have so much of this written out in these ridiculously short chapters. Updating regularly shouldn't be a challenge... Oh well, I'm giving it my best shot now.**

Margaret and Klinger drove into the compound. The joy that they'd felt at getting out of the aid station, even if they had only been for a few days, was completely overshadowed by the worry and guilt they felt for having left Hawkeye behind.

When they stopped the jeep, they were swarmed by worried people, desperate to know if they were ok. So happy were they to have their favourite crazy corpsman and their head nurse back that almost all of them failed to notice the missing third. Except for Trapper, of course. He'd been the first to reach the jeep, and had noticed in an instant that his best friend wasn't there.

"Margaret, what the hell's going on?" Trapper shouted. "Why isn't Hawkeye with you?" Suddenly, the crowd all noticed that the chief surgeon was missing, glancing around worriedly. Margaret and Klinger stepped out of the jeep.

"Maybe we should talk in Colonel Blake's office?" She suggested. Trapper shook his head furiously, gripping her upper arm, a little too tightly. "McIntyre, let go of me!"

"Where's Hawkeye?" Margaret stared up at him with angry, tear filled eyes.

"He's not coming back!" Trapper stared at her, his hold on her arm loosening enough for Margaret to pull away and head to Henry's office with Klinger. After a few stunned seconds, Trapper ran after them.


	10. Chapter 10

"Well what do you mean he's not coming back?" Henry paused, then added: "And haven't we already been through this? I mean, you two weren't coming back either." Klinger shrugged.

"They don't have a surgeon they can send out yet, and when they do, they don't know if they'll send him here or the aid station." Henry sank down into his office chair.

"So…Pierce is alone out there." Margaret nodded. Trapper turned on his heel and stormed out of the office. Henry sighed. "Is it bad out there?" He finally asked, quietly. Margaret and Klinger looked at each other. Klinger had repeated Hawkeye's request to Margaret on the way back.

"Uh…not really." Margaret started. Klinger nodded.

"Yeah. Just kinda like here, but smaller."

"I suppose there are a few more patients in bad conditions, but nothing a surgeon like Pierce can't handle."

"And the shelling's not as bad as you'd think." Klinger finished up. Henry stared at them disbelievingly.

"He told you to say that, didn't he?" Margaret and Klinger both remained silent. Henry shook his head. "Whatever. For my sake, I'm gonna pretend that I believe you."


	11. Chapter 11

For Hawkeye, the next few weeks past by in somewhat of a blur. He spent almost all of his time operating, to the point where one operation just seemed to fade into another. Sometimes he'd end up going for days without really eating or sleeping, because there just wasn't enough time. Fortunately, it seemed soldiers, both American and North Korean, could only go so long without food and sleep too, because usually, just when Hawkeye thought that he was going to faint from exhaustion, the fighting would stop for a short while. Five more medics were killed or injured – he never did learn their names – and three new medics were brought to the aid station – he never learnt their names either.

In some ways, Hawkeye was glad for the work. It meant he didn't have time to focus on things like fear, which he was feeling in abundance. But for the most part, he hated it. He was constantly exhausted, hungry and thirsty. The wounded were always wounded worse here than they were at the 4077th, he supposed because by the time they reached the MASH, they'd already received basic treatment. The patients that died here always had injuries that were too horrible for words. Few matched the body of the man who's face was still haunting him, but all were worse than he'd ever seen before, and worse than he thought he'd ever see again.

The absolute worst thing was the seed of insanity that had started to grow when he'd first arrived. It was practically blooming now. The exhaustion he constantly felt wasn't enough to keep the nightmares away when he finally did sleep. For him, the shelling continued for twenty-four hours a day, even when he heard the others talking about the silence. Whenever he wasn't holding a scalpel, his hands shook horribly. He was jumpy, flinching whenever someone spoke to him. He could only explain it as a side effect of the most genuine fear he'd ever felt: he was slowly losing his mind, and that terrified him more than anything.

It was in one of the all too infrequent interludes that Hawkeye found himself now, slumped against a short wall. It was raining, and there was no roof to speak of, so he was covered by a camouflage tarpaulin as he tried to sleep. But he couldn't. He couldn't get comfortable: he hurt all over, the ground was hard, the tarpaulin was only big enough to cover him if he pulled his legs right up to his chest when he really wanted to stretch them out, and the shells that may or may not have been falling were all too loud.

He rolled over onto his back, giving in and straightening his legs out in front of him. They were immediately soaked through, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Sighing, he pulled himself into a sitting position, and when that still wasn't anymore comfortable, he rose. Keeping the tarpaulin over him, he headed round to the other side of the aid station, where he'd spoken to Dever weeks ago. He leant against the same wall that _he_'d sat against, and stared out into the same blackness that _he_'d stared out into. Then he heard the same familiar sound of a shell falling too close that _he_ must have heard.


End file.
